I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been here, chained to the floor of the room I was brought into. My shackles are long enough for me to stand and walk a small circle, but it strengthens my frustration at being padlocked in this space.
Rubbing my forehead, I think about my crew, more than likely coming up with a plan. I don’t think they fully understand what they’ll be walking into—I didn’t know what the hell I was roaming into.
I was told by my father that this was practically an uninhabited island, in the middle of nowhere, where only a few people may reside. It didn’t make any sense, but I did as I was told, giving myself a change of scenery from the mountains and valleys of Lothbrok.
Now I’m locked up in a paradise of hell with bitter women running the show.
The faint sound of footsteps patter along the tiles, and I jerk my attention to the door as it opens.
Rose-colored hair peeks from behind it, then steps into the room, leaving it open for the next body to walk in behind her.
Davina.
The little bloodthirsty siren who left the room the other day without uttering a single word.
“I’m Isolde,” the other announces like we haven’t met before as she stands a safe distance from me. “You will eat.”
I don’t respond, just continue sitting on the hard floor.
“He doesn’t look harmful,” she suddenly states, tossing a loaf of bread at me. I scoff loudly for them to hear, not bothering to catch the item she threw at me. Obviously they haven’t heard all of the alleged myths about me then.
My name is written and spread off the lips of people everywhere from where I’m from. I didn’t earn Dagen the Blood Axe just because I could hold one.
I’ve butchered hundreds of men to protect my people. Loyalty and pride flow through my veins just as my blood does freely.
So harmful wouldn’t be lost on a conversation about me.
“He’s haughty and ignorant,” Isolde professes then jerks her attention to her sister. “Absolutely not.”
Davina fixes her with an insistent look, not backing down from whatever the hell it was that Isolde answered “no” to.
“Out of the question,” she digresses, adjusting the spectacles on her nose. Davina narrows her eyes.
“I won’t bite,” I offer as both of their eyes fall on me. “Hard, I mean.”
Davina stares at me while Isolde looks back at her.
“Atarah will—” She stops then rolls her eyes. “Five minutes.” She turns on her heels and begins to leave the room. “And I won’t knock.”
Slamming the door behind her, she leaves me to bask in the one siren who captivates every inch of my body.
This is what they are all about.
Seduction.
Beauty.
A fatal monster.
I perk a brow. “Still don’t speak, eh?” She continues to stand there, giving me the full view of her body under very little clothing.
Today she’s wearing a pink bandeau covered in pearls and seashells, her naked torso of ivory glistening in the sun overhead, with a white skirt of meshed material that gives me more of a regard of her toned legs.
But what’s different is the crown, the one made of not just seashells, but old pendants and chains. They drape over the shells of different shapes and colors, professing her rank.
“If you’re going to stare me to death, please, just take my knife and stab me a few times in the chest.”
Silence.
“What do you want?”
More silence.
I sigh, rubbing one of my temples with a chained hand. “Well if you’re going to mute me to death, it’s working.”
I think I see a smirk, but it disappears just as quickly as I thought I saw it.
“What do you want?” I repeat. “Because I’m not going to tell you anything.” She steps forward, which jolts me back a little.
Standing to have a better position on her, I watch her continue her trail toward me—a dangerous one.
One she should think twice about because if I have a mind to, my chains have enough slack to crush the little thing to death.
“You might want to keep your distance, Blood,” I warn. “It’s not a smart idea for you to get too close to me.”
She doesn’t listen.
The stupid little girl takes no heed in what the hell I just said as she traipses closer with her bare feet. Either brave or stupid, I’m going to take my opportunity if it presents itself.
A foot away, she halts, peering up at me with those stunning greens, and I can’t help but explore her face. Two freckles on the left and three on the right side of her high-boned cheeks, long eyelashes, and a button nose. Her plush lips are pink and impeccable.
And the fucking enemy.
“You don’t know how to speak?”
She blinks.
“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’.”
She stares.
“I’m not going to say a thing about—you’re wasting your time.”
Another blink.
“This only works to my advantage, Blood. I’ve never killed a young woman before that wasn’t armed.”
With a sword or ax.
Davina has a whole other arsenal that I don’t know about, I’m sure, and unfortunately, I’m going to find out the hard fucking way.
My chains rattle as my hands quickly seize her neck, pressing the tips of my thumbs into her windpipe.
Yanking her toward me, I wait for widened eyes to fill with anguish, for her lips to part in shock, but she remains unfazed.
Unaffected.
Calm.
Until a surge of scorching heat burns the pads of my fingers, immediately getting me to release her. I fling myself back at the pain coursing through my hand.
I can smell the odor of burnt flesh, my instant need is cool water which, of course, there’s none near.
“The fuck,” I bellow, shaking my hand in the air to try and ease the discomfort.
Nothing—again.
Looking down at my fingers, they’re red but the skin is still there.
I jerk my eyes to her. “You magical piece of—” She perks a brow, ceasing my next words.
She understands everything.
She’s not stupid or ignorant. She’s as cunning and smart as the rest of them.
“This no talking shit works both ways, Blood,” I snap. She gives me a once-over, sizing me up, because to her right now I’m nothing.
I’m no threat.
I’m not a worry in her mind.
I’m a prisoner on her island, and I’m not getting out of here unless I tell her what I’ve come for. But I think she has a pretty damn good idea of what that certain something is.
“You can’t keep me here forever, sweetheart,” I sneer, jerking on the chains that still bind me to the floor. “You better make up your mind on what you’re going to do with me.”
I’m not built to be a prisoner of war nor will I stay one. She either kills me or lets me go. And if she does neither, I’ll take my chances and find my way out.
Davina abruptly turns on her heels and walks away. She and I are not done yet.
That’s all her expression said.
I shouldn’t be here alone, but I am—again. This time without one of my sisters. This time without a plan. And knowing deep down that this second visit is going to be as worthless as the last one.